


The Lioness

by katnisseverdennys



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katnisseverdennys/pseuds/katnisseverdennys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Days before the Reaping, Peeta is thrown into a different game: trading with Katniss Everdeen. Written for Prompts In Panem, Sept. 2013 Day four. Sin-Pride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lioness

An array of pastel colors were laid out around the stained counter, scattered around the five tiered, bubble gum pink cake. Light pinks, purples, reds and blue frosting were heaped into ceramic ivory bowls. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafted its way to my nose from the oven. The pale yellow walls of the large kitchen gave me comfort as I cleaned my spreading knife. I grimaced when I picked up the light pink frosting and scooped it into a piping bag. The Reaping was in three days, and Mayor Undersee had ordered an extravagant cake for Effie Trinket’s arrival, as he does every year. Effie’s serious obsession with the color pink always annoyed all of us, as it was the hardest color for us to whip together, needing at least seven bowls filled with strawberries. I was going to need more as I looked at the sad amount of frosting left in the bowl. The piping bag only held so much, but it wasn’t nearly enough to even finish three tiers. I sighed as my mother screamed at Marcus, my eldest brother to man the counter. Leo appeared from around the corner with a pan of loaves, the Capitol insignia engraved into them.  
“Hate this place…” I heard him mutter under his breath. I shook my head at him and laughed quietly. He was always complaining about something, even more so now that Winnie Palmer, the tailor’s daughter rejected him. My father swore loudly as the heat from the oven blew into his face, and he struggled to carry the pies out without dropping them. Mom gave him a look while she breezed past us, her short dirty blond hair wrapped up onto the top of her head.

“No Capitol Inquisition today?” Leo teased, washing the pans.

“She’s still pissed about having to see Ms. Trinket’s beautiful pink face in twenty four hours.” I smirked.

“Maybe she’ll turn out white this year.” Marcus joined in. I slapped his hand away from tasting the strawberry frosting and gave him some side eye.

“Or maybe the Games will be abolished.” Leo joked. A knock on the back door startled us, and Leo hurriedly walked to answer it before our mother could.

“Katniss Everdeen! Are those strawberries you’ve brought?” My father exclaimed from the basement. Marcus grins at me while walking back to the main counter and waggles his eyebrows. I mouth off at him, hoping no one else saw.

“Happy Hunger Games.” I hear her mirthless tone. I pretend to mindlessly stir the frosting, hoping for a more whipped quality to it. Katniss Everdeen, the resident huntress of District Twelve always visited us through the back door since my mother so cruelly called her and Gale Hawthorne “Bloody Mutts” the one time they entered the main way. I remember her grey moon eyes narrow in shock and her bony shoulder turn sharply to the doorway, as she stalked out with Gale following, and promptly knocking on the back door of the kitchen, glad to deal with our father instead. Her pride was admirable, and hard to beat. If one had looked at both Gale’s and Katniss’ faces, it would be hard to distinguish whose pride ran the pack, but if you looked closely, it was easy to tell that it was Katniss.

“Peeta can help take those berries off of you.” My father mentioned passively. What? Shit!

I’m sure I looked like an idiot standing there with my mouth open. Leo and Dad both grinned at me while Katniss cocked her eyebrow, her weight shifting heavily to the side as she struggled to hold onto a large steel bucket filled to the brim with succulent red strawberries. “Well don’t be rude, boy.” Dad pats me on the back. Screw you too Dad, go ahead and feed me to the lion.

“Yeah! Sorry.” I rush to her side, but she holds the bucket steady. Her eyes flash at me, a dangerous storm brewing within them. I back my hand away gently from her arm, showing her I mean no harm. She moves to go to the counter, her neck beading with sweat. It’s only when she tries to hoist the bucket onto the table, is where I step in. I lift the bucket easily, but there was a definite weight to it. Maybe ten, fifteen pounds? I’m astounded that tiny body of hers had the strength to even carry it across the square. I wonder if Hawthorne had carried it, especially after I notice her tattered hunting bag slung across her back, but there are no signs of the tall Seam boy.

“How much is in here?” I ask.

“It’s the entire patch by the fence.”

Only when she is preoccupied with removing her hunting bag is when I allow myself to stare at her. Her onyx hair was tied in a braid over her shoulder, and her olive colored skin had a sweaty sheen to it. She didn’t wear the oversized, faded tan hunting jacket today, it was too humid outside for it. Instead she wore her usual brown corduroy trousers, a flannel shirt that hung off of her smaller chest, and her ratted brown boots that were laced too tight. Her bony chin jutted out as she pulled out three squirrels, a fat grey rabbit, and what looked like a small block of goat cheese, which may have come from the Everdeen’s old goat, Lady.

“A lot to trade today?” I ask, conversationally. She looks me in the eye and tilts her head as she shrugs.

“A lot to prepare for.” Her vague answers always had me spinning. Katniss was never one to give straight answers. Everything in her demeanor screamed Queen of the Jungle, and nobody dared to correct her.

It was probably her demeanor that had me smitten in the first place. Even as a child, she was confident in whatever she did. She inherited the same pride her father has, unfortunate girl. My mother commented snidely one year at the harvest festival. We were both around seven, and she had been toting around a little blonde Prim with her, as their parents watched proudly. I hid behind the bakery booth, watching her go up to different vendors and demand her father to explain to her what each small thing was. I smiled softly as I remembered Mr. Everdeen buying little Katniss a new sunset orange dress that she wore to school the next day, which promptly became my new favorite color. Mom had thrown a fit when she saw my brothers teasing me about being in love with a Miner’s daughter, and smacked me hard across my face, staining my cheek the color of bleeding cranberries.

Katniss wasn’t the only proud woman in the District.

After Mr. Everdeen’s death, the entire town watched the prideful girl turn to bones as she and her family withered away. The Lion had died, and his cubs along with him.

“I can give the strawberries for one whole loaf, and then you can take everything else for two more loaves.” She stated. She must have already calculated the worth of her inventory on her way here.

“That seems fair enough. I can probably throw in a few cheese buns to offset the amount of strawberries.” Her eyes seemed to flash with a hunger that I had seen briefly once, before a small smile settled onto her red stained lips. It occurred to me that Katniss has probably already snuck a few strawberries on her way to the bakery, maybe even a large handful for Prim. She had loved strawberries when we were younger. It was the only fruit I saw her nibbling on delicately at lunch, ruby red juice staining her mouth and chin.

“Prim would like that.” I smiled shyly at her as I left to collect her items. I chose her bread carefully, picking the ones that were straight out of the oven and didn’t have the Capitol insignia on it. Usually she only left with one or one and a half loaves of bread. I ran my hands over the soft flaky bread of the cheese buns, the ones I crafted so delicately earlier in the morning. I slipped four of them into the bag, and I knew she would have a pleasant surprise to look forward to. I imagined Katniss’ fingers breaking softly into the bread, pulling apart the cheese and popping it into her slight mouth. I overheard her with Prim the first time they took a bite out of a cheese bun, both of them moaning slightly with delight. “These taste amazing Katniss! Thank you for getting them!” Katniss smiled and tousled her sister’s neat blonde hair and snuck her calloused hand into Prim’s, guiding her home. “Happy birthday, little duck.”

I snapped out of my reverie, trying my best not to look creepy as I stood hovering over the cheese buns. I gave her the bag filled with bread and ran my hands down the front of my pants, hoping I didn’t look stupid. It was easy to bruise your ego looking like the district fool in front of Katniss.

“This is good, the Hawthornes can share this easily.” She murmured under her breath.

“The Hawthornes? Where is Gale?” I shut my mouth as soon as the words escape. She’s sharing with the Hawthornes? The grumpy part of me thinks I only should have put two cheese buns for Katniss and Prim, but I realize how selfish and mean it is to think that about another starving family. It takes a lot to remember that Katniss wasn’t the only Seam child trying to provide for her family.

She gives me a curious look before answering slowly. “Gale and I…we feed each other’s families if something comes up.”

We stand in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, both of us lost in thoughts. I caught a glimpse of the blood stains all along the bottom of her pants. Despite the foreboding tone she spoke, ultimately Katniss would be the one to survive us all. Everyone knew what a good hunter Katniss was, and many of the kids at school were intimidated by her impeccable use of her bow. I sneak a glance at the squirrels on the table, and only the eyes were destroyed. She could even give Rooba the butcher a run for her money in skinning animal hides. It made me think back to a picture book of Capitol animals our teachers would read us back in elementary.

“And who does the hunting in a Pride?”

“The lion!” We all shout.

“No, it’s the lioness! The lioness is the one who hunts down all the animals for her entire pack to eat. The lioness will do anything to protect her family.”

Sly and calculating, Katniss Everdeen was the sleek lioness, hunting for the people she considered her family. The picture of the lioness in the picture had haunted me for days, her face and muzzle soaked in the blood of an animal, and when I complained to my father, he hushed my fears and told me that those animals were only in The Capitol. I was safe from their clutches.

I was intimidated by Katniss. Fascinated. Captivated by her every movement.

“I better leave. Thanks for the bread.” She moves to leave, slinging her hunting bag over her rail thin shoulder, and when she grabs the doorknob is when I speak.

“Katniss, wait.” She swings her head back around, her thin lips pursing. I was wasting her time, I knew that. She probably wanted to make it back home before the creeps came to invite her to the slagheap. I took a second to convince myself that she would want to hear my proposal before making a rash decision.

“I…at least let me give you some more bread Katniss.” I regretted the words as soon as I spit them out. I should have known better to start a storm.

Grey eyes flashed like lightning as her tiny feet thundered across the tile floor until she was right in front of me. I knew Katniss was short, probably due to malnourishment, but she only came to an inch below my shoulder. If she would have had the proper nourishment, she maybe would have been as tall as her clear voiced father. As tall as me. She threw down her bag filled with bread onto the counter, and pointed her finger at me.

“I don’t need your charity.” Katniss sneered at me.

“I’m aware of that, but you’re not just feeding Prim right now. You’re feeding Gale’s family too. How many siblings does he have? Three more?”

“Don’t bring Gale and his family into this.”

“Why not? They need food as well.”

“I’m bringing them bread and game and what else I can trade.”

“Katniss, you can’t feed seven people on three loaves of bread!”

“I’ve fed them on much less! And why are you so involved? Is this because I didn’t say thank you before?”

I’m truly confused now. “What are you talking about?”

Katniss shifts her eyes around to see if anyone is close to entering the kitchen. “The bread from when we were eleven.”

I am such an idiot.

“…This was never about that Katniss.”

She sighs heavily but refuses to look at me. She’s staring at the gluttonous cake I was decorating before. I wonder what she must think about us, if the Merchant side of town lives as lavishly as they say and appear. I’ve wounded and reminded her that she no matter how hard the lioness roars, she will still bow her head in shame if she fails to provide for her family. Have I made her feel inadequate? Incapable? Katniss Everdeen is none of these things.

“I can’t take your bread.” She whispers quietly. I feel the strange urge to push back the small strands of hair hanging around her face, however I stop myself with much strength.

“Katniss…”

“It’s….very kind of you, but trust me when I sat that I can’t.”

“You don’t have to pay me back….”

“I owe you too much as it is.” She meets my gaze, and while I try not to show how much her steely stare affects me, I step back subtly enough that if she does run, she knows I will not come after her. Her voice starts to waver and begins to walk away.

“Katniss….I’m sorry if I insulted you.” She cocks her head towards me over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you at the Reaping.” She opens the back door and shuts it with a loud thud. I let out a huge breath and turn back around to start working on the decorations of the cake. I can’t let Katniss deter my concentration, but it was so hard to get such a memorable person out my mind. If I could, the cake I’d be decorating would be a lush, green forest, filled with wild animals and a young woman nocking an arrow. It’s only when I pick up the bowl do I notice that Katniss had accidently left her bag of bread on the counter. She must have left it when we were talking. An idea struck me and soon I found myself shoving another load of French bread into the bag, and I burst out of the door, trying to utilize as much energy as I could to catch up with her. Katniss was halfway across the square, her hunting bag swinging. She popped a few little green leaves in her mouth and was chewing when I cried out her name.

“Katniss!!” I yell. Startled, she snapped her head towards me, confusion settling on her face. I liked seeing expression on her, she was always so stoic and tense. I raise up the bag to let her know she had forgotten it, and her lips purse as she slowly makes her way back to me. The blank look had returned and I became more nervous. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice until later that I had given her an extra loaf. The last thing I wanted was Katniss raising hell in the middle of the night, and the aftermath that would come with my mother.

“You forgot this.” I shove the bag into her arms, and watch her tighten her fingers around it.

“Thanks.”

“…I’ll see you at the Reaping then.” I can’t say goodbye to Katniss. I can’t say something so final to a girl I have so many feelings invested in. I’m aware that she might have another, and that another is more than likely Gale Hawthorne. They were too close to break apart, especially now. Katniss only has two more years until she’s able to marry. Why wouldn’t she choose Gale? She feeds him. She feeds his family as well as her own.

I wish the lioness could choose me.

“Alright…bye.” She makes a move to leave, but stops and turns around.

“Peeta?”

“Yes?”

“…Good luck.”

“…You too, Katniss.”

And the lioness leaves.

She did not leave with her tail between her legs. She walked with a high head and swing to her small hips. She was radiant in every way.

“May the odds be ever in your favor, Katniss Everdeen.” I whisper to no one.

Dusk was starting to settle across the square as I walked back slowly towards the bakery. I imagined the surprise on Katniss’ face when she’ll open her bag with bread. Will she be angry? Insulted? A pride wounded? Most likely. Would she throw shit in my face for it though? I wasn’t so sure. She was probably at the Hawthorne’s right now, giving them their fair share of bread. Maybe she was at her own home, giving Prim the bigger piece of bread. A girl who rose from the ashes. A cub who grew into her teeth.

It wasn’t the Lion who led a pride. It was the Lioness.


End file.
